


we'll call this place our home

by perennials



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal, also a birthday fic, no longer Canon Compliant as of Episode Ten, yea its another fuckin proposal fic sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8690980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perennials/pseuds/perennials
Summary: “What do you want for your birthday?”Yuuri averts his gaze, cheeks rosy-red. “You, I guess? Forever?”Forever. Forever.Viktor buys a ring.-Or, The Big Day approaches, and Viktor seeks advice from various members of the Katsuki family.





	

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday katsuki yuuri the most beautiful amazing talented katsudon fatale, part 2.  
> i know i have another fic published which has exactly the same set-up, that being a proposal on someone's birthday but fuck it i'll dump this here anyway  
> that's all, read on

"Is there anything you really want right now?" Viktor asks one day, because it's the middle of November and he’s still clueless as to what, exactly, to do about a present for a very specific someone. The fact that it's nigh six in the morning is a testament to his helplessness, and investment, in the matter.

 

After a moment of silence Yuuri shifts against Viktor’s body and lets out a string of loose, slurred Japanese. He opens one eye blearily, barely registering his dimly-lit surroundings.

 

“Katsudon?” Yuuri’s still half asleep, probably, grumbling into his pillow with one arm looped around Viktor’s waist.

 

Viktor can't help but smile. “Now? Are you sure, love?”

 

Painstakingly peeling his other eyelid open, Yuuri brings a hand up to trace the sliver of moonlight glittering on Viktor’s face. Even in the pregnant pause of darkness his eyes are lit with stars, irises speckled with fairy-dust.

 

“It’s too early for this, Viktor,” he sighs. He pulls Viktor closer and presses a sleep-soft kiss to his lips, then nuzzles back into the crook of his neck. “Go to sleep.”

 

Viktor would be lying if he said the gesture doesn't make his heart lurch. _What’d I do to deserve someone like you_ , he thinks as he rests his chin on Yuuri’s head and tries to slow his trilling heartbeats. Yuuri would laugh at him if he noticed. He's sure of it.

 

“So, sleep, then?” Viktor kind of wants to kiss him again but his mind helpfully supplements the current time, and a list of reasons not to, on which ‘getting punched by your boyfriend’ is at the very top.

 

“You're an idiot.” _Oh_. Yuuri’s got a palm flat against Viktor’s chest. He's smiling against Viktor’s neck. It's so very, very warm. “Yes, sleep. I'll still be here in the morning. We can talk then.”

 

Viktor feels like a kid. A pampered, much-loved kid.

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

He sleeps fitfully this time.

 

//

 

Viktor wakes up in the morning to a large, empty bed. Yuuri is a liar. A liar!

 

“Your boyfriend went off to the department store,” Mari says nonchalantly from the kitchen.

 

Viktor is flabbergasted. “What? Why?”

 

She shrugs. “Ask him, not me.”

 

Viktor slumps into an empty seat, feeling like an abandoned puppy. A very cute one, albeit.

 

“Say, do you think there's anything Yuuri would like as a present?”

 

“Hmm? Whaddya mean?”

 

“Because his, you know,” Viktor flails his arms around, struggling to find a way to get his meaning across without dropping the Birthday Bomb. He gives up. “November 29th! It is soon.”

 

“Oh,” Mari hums in acknowledgment. “It is, isn't it?”

 

Viktor watches her expectantly, puppy-eyes large and round and sparkling.

 

“Well, why don't you ask him yourself? Although he'd probably be happy no matter what you got him.” She flashes him a lazy, cat-like grin, then disappears back down the hallway.

 

Viktor’s head hits the table with a thud. Oh, how the cruelty of the Katsuki family hurts him! He is a man of action, not _contemplation_. These are not familiar grounds.

 

When Yuuri slides the front door open and announces his return some twenty minutes later Viktor hasn't budged an inch from the floor. He remains lifeless against the smooth, cold wood until Yuuri sets a bag down in front of him and the sound jolts him upright.

 

“Have you ever tried okonomiyaki?” Comes the familiar, gentle voice.

 

Yuuri beams at him and Viktor’s heart is suddenly beating normally again. His spirits have been renewed. All is right in the world.

 

“No,” he replies, _November 29th_ (soon, soon!) all but forgotten. “But I'd like to.”

 

//

 

The okonomiyaki is delicious and delectable and a worthy distraction. By the time Viktor remembers the existence of his noble quest, a few days have passed.

 

He tries Yuuri’s father next. As it is, subtlety in conversation has never been his strong suit, and after a few lines of polite chatter the exact same question spills out of him again.

 

“Our Yuuri, you say?” Toshiya looks pleasantly amused. He swirls the cup of tea in his hands slowly like it's an act of meditation. “He's a good kid— never really complained much when he was younger and worked harder than anyone else at what he loved. He never asked us for anything outside of ice skating essentials!” He chuckles to himself.

 

Toshiya’s words take the edge off Viktor’s heavy sense of urgency, the fondness in his voice shining through as clearly as summer skies.

 

“Yeah, he's a good kid,” Viktor agrees, like they're not talking about a man who's on the precipice of twenty-four.

 

“We did buy him a lot of posters of you, though. It was basically the only other thing he showed an interest in, apart from skating,” Toshiya adds on as an afterthought. “He'd bring home stacks of magazines and then cut out every photo of you he could find.”

 

An image appears in Viktor’s mind of a tiny Yuuri lying on his stomach on the floor, sports magazines spread out all around him as he carefully, painstakingly cuts along the straight edges as best as his small hands allow him to. Viktor can picture exactly how his eyebrows are furrowed, his frown lopsided as he chews on the inside of his mouth. Yuuri must have been adorable as a kid, he decides.

 

“Just how much did Yuuri like me?” He wonders aloud.

 

“Oh, very, very much.” Toshiya looks up from his tea. “That, I believe, hasn't changed at all.”

 

//

 

“So, about Yuuri.” Viktor falls into step behind Hiroko.

 

She looks over her shoulder and smiles warmly at him, hefting the cardboard box further up in her arms. “Yes?”

 

They walk into the storage room and leave the boxes stacked up against the far wall. “What do you usually do for his birthday?”

 

“Not very much, actually. He's always been a quiet kid, wasn't very fond of big celebrations and the likes, so we generally stuck to small parties at home with just a few of his close friends. I don’t know how the last five years went, but I imagine it wasn’t much different.” Hiroko pats him on the shoulder and makes for the exit.

 

“What should _I_ do for his birthday?” Genuine bafflement colors Viktor’s face, draws his expression into something more vulnerable, less camera-ready.

 

Hiroko stops in the doorway and turns back to him. “What do you think would make him the happiest?” Her voice is patient, understanding.

 

She pauses to think, then continues, “did you know that Yuuri once came to us crying in the middle of the night because he'd dreamed about making it to the Grand Prix world finals and shaking hands with you?”

 

Viktor flushes bright pink, his heart stuttering weakly in his chest. _I made Yuuri cry once, even before I met him._ He doesn't know if he wants to laugh triumphantly at the sky or drill a hole to Canada with the force of his guilt.

 

“No,” he says quietly.

 

“Our Yuuri’s let you get closer to his heart than anyone else in the world. Trust in your own judgment more, _Vitya_.” Hiroko vanishes around the corner.

 

“But I’m not good at judging people,” Viktor calls after her. “I'm not a good judge of anything.”

 

//

 

Yuuri’s phone buzzes with a reply, and he snorts at whatever pops up on the screen.

 

Viktor lifts his head off Yuuri’s chest. “Hmm?”

 

“Yuko says Yurio’s planning on sending me a leopard print sweater for my birthday.” He doesn't look mad, or annoyed. In fact, he looks pretty happy.

 

“The little ice tiger’s heart is thawing,” Viktor sings, tracing a cartoon heart across Yuuri’s shirt. He lets his head fall back onto Yuuri’s chest.

 

A few minutes slip by in comfortable silence, Viktor humming tunelessly with his hands around Yuuri’s torso while the other continues tapping away at the keypad.

 

“ _Whaddyowanfoyobirdayyuri_.”

 

“What?” Yuuri raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“I said,” Viktor mumbles, almost sulking, “what do you want for your birthday?”

 

Yuuri slides his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, face turned up to the ceiling. “Nothing, really.”

 

“Are you sure?” Levering himself up on his elbows, Viktor shimmies further up so he's eye-to-eye with Yuuri.

 

“Well… I mean—”

 

“I've got no shortage of money, darling. The world is at your fingertips.”

 

Yuuri averts his gaze, cheeks rosy-red. “You, I guess? Forever?”

 

For a second Viktor forgets to breathe.

 

_You’re closer to his heart than anyone else in the world._

 

"That is a very big thing to want," he remarks, feigning amusement. _Forever,_ his heart repeats.

 

Viktor buys a ring.

 

//

 

The celebrations are kept relatively low key— as low key as a world-class figure skater and Japan’s ace can have them, anyway.

 

The Katsuki family, Viktor included, is at Yuuri’s bedroom door at the break of dawn, ready to drag him out of his room at a moment’s notice. When the silence becomes insultingly loud one of them turns the knob and lets Makkachin tackle Yuuri to the bed, simultaneously crushing both his ribcage and any hopes of getting more sleep.

 

Hiroko makes katsudon (naturally), and Viktor helps out where he can. Yuuri says it's the best he's had in his entire life. Phichit and a few other figure skates FaceTime him and send him birthday wishes, along with the occasional flash of ass or bare skin. Yurio’s sweater (plus a stack of fan letters) arrives in the mail just in time, and Yuuri’s twitter blows up with birthday messages from across the globe.

 

It's a small, quiet occasion, mostly, but it's warm.

 

By nightfall everyone is blissfully drunk, either laughing giddily at a vase somewhere or passed out on the floor. Viktor comes across Hiroko, collecting half-full glasses in the guest area, and asks him where Yuuri is.

 

“He’s in his room.” She winks knowingly at him.

 

He finds Yuuri sitting on his bed with his feet hanging off the side, scrolling on his phone.

 

“Hey.”

 

Yuuri startles, then relaxes visibly when he sees Viktor lingering by the door.

 

“What're you doing standing around over there?” Yuuri chuckles and gestures to the bed.

 

On his request, Viktor shuffles closer, but stops when he bumps against Yuuri’s knee. Sensing that there's something more Viktor wants to say, he locks his phone and tosses it aside.

 

“Happy birthday,” Viktor says, for maybe the fifth or sixth time that day. “I got you something.”

 

“Oh, you didn't have to, really—” Yuuri laughs bashfully, scratches the back of his head with one hand.

 

Suddenly, Viktor is not towering over him anymore, but down on one knee on the floor. Yuuri stops laughing.

 

Because Viktor’s pulled something out of his pocket. The _something_ is a box, pretty and jet-black and velvety, its clasp yielding easily to his careful touch.

 

Inside the small, small box is a ring.

 

Yuuri doesn't speak for a full minute, just gapes at him in shock, stunned statue-still and face thoroughly cleared of all emotion. With a twinge of unease Viktor is reminded of the day of the cup of China free skate, silent tears, and bitter hurt.

 

And then Yuuri starts crying. He _actually_ starts crying, big fat droplets flooding down his cheeks and leaving tear stains on the fabric of his pants.

 

“I'm sorry— I just, I—” He's not just crying, but _laughing_ , Viktor realizes with a jolt. _What the hell have I done?_ He's ready to drill that hole to Canada, right now.

 

He almost drops the box, ring and tiny satin cushion and all. “You said forever. Forever, right? I didn't hear you wrong, did I?”

 

“No, no, it's—” Yuuri lets out a string of rapid-fire Japanese which mostly sails over Viktor’s head. God. Did he really say that? He's pretty sure just Yuuri thanked God.

 

He closes his fingers around Viktor’s wrist and tugs him onto the bed. His hands shoot outto brace themselves on the mattress; Yuuri cradles his face between his like he's holding the most fragile thing.

 

“Forever is good,” Yuuri whispers, warm breath ghosting along his skin.

 

“Wait, wait, I haven't asked you yet! Let me say say it first!” Viktor flushes a deeper shade of red than him, scrambling around in the sheets for the elusive box. Yuuri doesn't say anything, just watches him with a sugar-sweet fondness.

 

 _Found it._ Viktor holds up the ring like a carnival prize. He takes Yuuri’s hand in his, puts on his most serious face.

 

“Will you marry me?”

 

Yuuri gives him a smile so heartbreakingly tender Viktor dies and is reincarnated a hundred times over in the space of one second.

 

“Yes, yes, _yes_.”

 

Viktor really wants to kiss him again. He wants to kiss him so bad it hurts.

 

“Can I—”

 

Yuuri’s lips are on his before he can finish his sentence. He kisses light into Viktor's mouth, and he opens up like the gentlest, softest dream.

 

//

 

To everyone's surprise, Viktor is the first one to cry at the wedding. Yuuri wipes away his tears with the pad of his thumb and kisses both of his eyelids and acts cool and collected, but dissolves into tears two and-a-half minutes later. They sniffle their way through most of the formalities, dressed in matching thousand-dollar suits and squinting through watery eyes. It's everything they've ever wanted.

 

It's perfect. 

**Author's Note:**

> listen...at least the approach to the topic was kind of different. right. kind of. originality has never been my strong suit i *flings hands into the air along with a spare pair of underwear* give up  
> talk to me about viktuuri on twitter @ nikiforcvs !! or fight me or whatever  
> speaking of viktuuri, yuri on ice, and speaking of yuri on ice, episode 9 is in a day, so lemme just #PRAYFORMAKKACHIN2K16 oh and #MAKEVIKTORCRY2K16 i will still eat my fist if he doesn't shed some good ol tears tomorrow that is all  
> thanks for reading! if you liked what ya saw consider leaving a kudo or a comment or don't, whatever floats your boat. mine is sustained by comments because i'm WeakTM but yea you do you and i'll do me
> 
> have a good one

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [we’ll call this place our home by perennials [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799505) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




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